


Sunny-Side-Up

by RosemarysBubbe



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Meetings, M/M, accidental poisoning, briefly mentioned anaphylaxis, he's fine tho so it barely counts, waffle house au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24158005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosemarysBubbe/pseuds/RosemarysBubbe
Summary: The first time Egg Man came in, Eddie almost burned Mike’s hash browns. Only almost, though, because Eddie was a consummate professional. And because Ben had drawn him out of his staring._________________AU inspired by that r/relationships post about the guy with the eggs.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 115





	Sunny-Side-Up

[Inspired by this r/relationships post.](https://twitter.com/redditships/status/1260126130687881217)

\-------

Eddie knew he shouldn’t do it. It was a waste of money, especially for what some would consider to be a stupid, long overplayed joke, but he was trying to be romantic. So he spent $30 on lobster.

\-------

A Waffle House in Bum Fuck, Maine wasn’t exactly where anyone expected to find a disgraced Michelin Star chef, but that’s where Eddie ended up after a public meltdown three years ago flushed his position at _La Maison Aux Puits_ down the drain. He’d sorted out his anxiety meds and taken anger management courses, but nothing would undo a Facebook video of him berating a rôtisseur within in an inch of her life. Especially not when it got played on _Good Morning, America_. They’d called him “Mean Gordon Ramsay,” and if _that_ wasn’t saying something—

In his defense, he didn’t mean to make the girl cry, and he’d sent her a _very_ well-received apology gift basket. He and Patty had made their amends long ago; they were actually good friends now! She was sous chef-ing for a well-respected restaurant in Atlanta, last time they’d talked.

Something like that on his public record didn’t earn him a lot of good will in the New York restaurant scene, though. He’d crucified himself in the court of public opinion, and if his anger management courses taught him anything, it was how to recognize when it was time to bow out.

His mother’s house in Derry had not been his first choice of refuge. He didn’t have great memories there. It had taken years to come to terms with his mother’s abuse, and his therapist would probably argue that he was still dealing with it. When he’d first moved back in, the house was bloated and decrepit. The paint on the outside of the house was chipping horribly, and every room was filled with dust covered memories, which he supposed was what happened when you abandoned a house for ten years. Still, the property appraiser said it wasn’t structurally unsound, and he had no other prospects at the time, so in he moved.

It had taken weeks of deep cleaning and repairs before Eddie was satisfied with it enough to stay the night there. Even now, almost three years later, some nights he’d catch the phantom whiff of mothballs mixed with his mother’s perfume, or he’d see a flicker in the corner of his eye, and he’d sleep on the (shiny, new) couch in the living room rather than climb the stairs to the master bedroom that reminded him of his childhood no matter what he did to it.

So no, the house wasn’t perfect, and since he’d gotten his job at the Waffle House, he had less time to work on it, but was slowly coming together in a way he could live with. He was proud of the back garden, at the very least. It had taken almost his entire first summer to put together in a way that made sense, but now it was an extremely functional potager garden with everything from a plentiful herb patch to a small Bosc pear tree. With just him to feed, he almost never had to go to the grocery store during the summer and fall, just the butcher’s in town.

He’d met Stan, the Waffle House manager, at the butcher’s one day. Eddie had been looking for a lamb shank, and Stan had been trying to pick up a last-minute brisket before his parents came over for Sabbath. Eddie had left without his lamb but with a job interview at the Waffle House on the edge of town.

\-------

The first time Egg Man came in, Eddie almost burned Mike’s hash browns. Only almost, though, because Eddie was a consummate professional. And because Ben had drawn him out of his staring.

It wasn’t _Eddie’s_ fault the man had dumb broad shoulders under his hideous, floral patterned button down. _Eddie_ wasn’t the one with bullshit long legs and fucking piano player fingers. And _Eddie_ wasn’t the one who designed every fucking Waffle House in America to have a counter where customers could sit and watch people cook, which was normally fine except when fucking giants with stupid blue eyes magnified by fuck-off-huge glasses sat there.

So maybe Eddie lost track of Mike’s hash browns for a second when the (completely objectively) beautiful redhead with the man said something that made him laugh like an idiot goose who’d swallowed a bike horn. Ben elbowed him before anything _burned_ burned, and by the time Eddie finished plating Mike’s smothered and covered hash browns, Ben was standing in front of the man and the redheaded bombshell to take their order, blocking Egg Man from Eddie’s sight.

Eddie retreated to the far end of the counter to give Mike his hash browns, and he resolved to ignore the beautiful goose man for his own sanity. He was obviously there with his girlfriend, and also Eddie would probably never see him again, so it was fine.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” Eddie said, pointedly not looking down the counter. He filled Mike’s coffee back up while he was there.

“You got it, Eddie.” Eddie liked Mike. He was kind and incredibly smart. Mike had been a regular at the Waffle House for longer than Eddie had worked there. You could set your clock by Mike; every Monday-Wednesday-Saturday, smothered and covered hash browns and coffee. Eddie admired the stability of his routine. On Saturdays, Mike often brought books from the Derry Library, and he always brought Eddie the new cookbooks to peruse before they entered circulation.

Eddie leaned against the counter in front of Mike and opened his mouth to say something when Ben sidled up and pushed the ticket in front of his face. Eddie’s eyes crossed trying to read it.

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Eddie snatched the ticket out of Ben’s hand and spun back to the griddle, leaving Ben to Mike. Motherfucking _hash browns all-the-way_ , Eddie was going to snap. He’d tried in vain for two and half years to get Stan to cross it off on all the menus, but to no avail.

Eddie knew he was grumbling while he made the fucking vomit hash browns. He could hear Mike behind him asking Ben about it and laughing when Ben told him. Mike had heard Eddie’s all-the-way rant on more than one occasion when it had just been the two of them in the restaurant. Eddie glared at them both over his shoulder. Mike raised his coffee mug in salute. Ben just winked, the smug bastard.

Eddie liked Ben, he really did, but Ben was too nice for his own good. If _Eddie_ was the server, they would never have orders for _fucking hash browns all-the-way_ that’s for damn sure.

The rest of the order was pretty standard, a pecan waffle and two sunny-side-up eggs. Still, Eddie couldn’t help but feel petty. He glanced over at the customers and flipped the eggs. Anyone willing to deface their hash browns _deserved_ the wrong eggs. They probably wouldn’t notice. Eddie’s therapist, Mattie, had been telling him to start doing at least one small kind thing for himself every day, and passive aggressively serving eggs over-easy instead of sunny-side-up to people ordering _all-the-way hash browns_ was what he was choosing today, so there. He almost threw up while putting the chili on the hash browns, so it felt like a fair trade, to be honest.

Rather than wait for Ben to stop talking to Mike, Eddie finished plating the food and took it over himself. He sat everything down between the man and the woman rather than ask who’d ordered what. He had a suspicion the man had ordered the fucking hash browns, but if he could get away without confirming it, he wouldn’t have to admit to himself that his taste in men was garbage. 

“I’ll send Ben over with more coffee for you,” he said, making eye contact with the woman rather than get sucked back into the man’s eyes. He turned quickly but only got one step before the man spoke up.

“Hey, excuse me—” Eddie turned back around, and they ended up making direct eye contact. Something unreadable crossed the man’s face. Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Eddie could tell it was too long but couldn’t look away. He felt like he was melting having the man’s full attention on him.

Then his girlfriend snorted.

Eddie shook his head and looked at the woman. She was staring at her boyfriend’s face, a smile tugging at her lips. The man cleared his throat and Eddie snapped back to attention. This time he saw it. The man had ordered the motherfucking all-the-way hash browns. Just looking at them had Eddie’s nose wrinkling.

“Cute,” the man said. The woman choked on air, and the man looked at her wide eyed. The man’s eyebrows climbed his considerable forehead. Eddie _must_ have heard him wrong.

“Did you need something?”

“Uh....yeah,” the man said, looking down at his hash browns. Eddie’s eyes followed his gaze and he felt himself frowning. The fucking hash browns. “I didn’t get your mom’s number last night when I slipped out her bedroom window.”

“What?”

“After I fucked her?” The man said. His eyes were still extremely wide, pushing his eyebrows even farther up his forehead than Eddie thought possible.

“Richie!” the redhead hissed, slapping her companion’s arm.

“Glad you’re being open about your necrophilia, dickhead. It must be a relief, in some ways, to know no living person would fuck you,” Eddie said. Some part of his brain heard Ben’s sharp gasp behind him, but most of his attention was on the man in front of him. His features drew in like he was confused for a second. Then his face opened up and he started goose-bike-horn laughing again. Eddie could feel himself getting red in the face. Fuck, this man was beautiful. Eddie needed to get some air. He turned to go.

“Hey, wait!” the man said, holding up the plate of eggs. “I ordered sunny-side-up. These are over-easy.” Eddie could feel his teeth grinding. Ben, thankfully, at that point, stepped in and took the plate from the man.

“We are _so_ sorry about that, give us just a minute and we’ll get you some new ones.” Eddie opened his mouth to deny that, but Ben used his considerable size advantage to move Eddie towards Mike’s end of the counter. “Eddie what the _shit_ are you trying to get _fired_ ,” Ben whisper-yelled.

“Please Ben, Stan’s not going to fire me over that. Besides, that guy started it.” Eddie didn’t bother lowering his voice. He could hear the man at the far end of the counter guffawing again. He glanced over and the redheaded woman was whispering something to him. “Mike, back me up.”

“I would agree that that guy _did_ start it,” Mike said magnanimously.

“And I’m _not_ making him new eggs,” Eddie said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. There was a squawking noise at the far end of the counter, and Eddie looked up see the man staring directly at him while trying to wipe up some orange juice that looked like it had exploded all over him.

“Ah jeez,” Ben said, moving to grab a rag. “Eddie, why don’t you take your break. _I’ll_ make the new eggs.” Eddie opened his mouth to protest but Ben shot him a look that had him nodding and slipping into Stan’s office to take his break. The man, the redhead, and Mike were gone by the time Eddie came back.

\-------

It only took two days for Egg Man and his girlfriend to come back. They came in after the pre-work breakfast crowd but before the Derry Moms who came in every Friday like clockwork at 9:30. This time, Bill was working with Eddie rather than Ben. Or he was supposed to be; when Egg Man and the redhead came in, Eddie was cleaning the waffle irons and Bill was leaned over the counter writing out what seemed like absolute nonsense on a whole stack of napkins. The couple forewent the counter this time and settled into a booth by the windows. Eddie shoved Bill towards them and continued cleaning.

Bill came over a few minutes later and dropped their ticket with Eddie before retreating to his napkins.

“Sorry, man,” Bill said when he passed it off. Eddie looked down at the ticket. _Fucking all-the-way hash browns and sunny-side-up eggs_. _Again_. Eddie growled and went to glare at the man, but when he looked up, the man was already staring at him. The man grinned and gave Eddie a thumbs up. Eddie frowned and looked back down at the ticket. The woman had ordered steak and eggs, medium rare, scrambled.

He scrambled both sets of eggs.

This time he sent Bill over with the food and pretended to go back to cleaning the waffle irons. If he’d already finished the waffle irons and they happened to be on the end of the kitchen towards their booth, it wasn’t anyone’s business but his own. He heard the bell over the door go to signal that the group of moms was arriving. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Bill set down the couple’s food and excuse himself to seat the women.

He startled when he heard the man laughing, he couldn’t help himself. He looked up. The man laughed with his whole body. He threw his head back and closed his eyes. The sun coming through the window behind him was glinting off the lenses of his glasses. Eddie swallowed thickly; time was literally slowing down. He had to shake himself when the man pushed out of the booth holding the plate of scrambled eggs.

The man sauntered over to the counter and leaned his full weight on it. Today his button up was magenta and teal plaid, and from this close he could see the way the pattern stretched across the tops of his shoulders. He felt like he was losing his mind. The man held the scrambled eggs out to Eddie.

“I know they don’t exactly hire Iron Chefs to work at Waffle House, but surely you know how to make sunny-side-up eggs.” Eddie swallowed down a retort that he _had_ been on Iron Chef, actually, as a sous chef before he’d become the executive chef at _La Maison Aux Puits._ Instead he twisted his face into what he was sure was a sour look and did something Mattie would’ve been proud of: he took a deep breath.

“Sorry, I can try again.” He reached out and took the plate from the man and dropped it on the prep bench. No use throwing them out, Bill would eat them, surely. He turned his back on the man and moved back to his griddle. He saw the man out of the corner of his eye return to his table.

Eddie made him scrambled eggs again.

\-------

The third time Egg Man came in was the next Monday, three days later. He came alone and introduced himself as Richie. Eddie poached his eggs in a coffee pot.

He tried to send them back three times only to receive more poached eggs before he gave up and half-jokingly threatened to ask for his manager. Eddie called Stan out of the office. Stan took one look at the eight poached eggs on the counter and went back into the office and locked the door.

\-------

Richie started coming in pretty much every day after that to order his fucking _all-the-way hash browns_. Sometimes he brought his girlfriend, Eddie found out her name was Bev, with him, and other times he didn’t. Ben and Bill both liked him fine, the traitors. After almost two months of visits, Eddie had made him soft boiled eggs, shirred eggs, eggs-in-holes, and omelets. He’d snuck Richie in slices of frittata and quiche he’d made at home.

Richie had laughed every time, but after the poached eggs he stopped sending them back. No, now he ate them while making direct, intense eye contact with Eddie. When Eddie wouldn’t make eye contact with him, Richie would just sit there until Eddie looked up. One Thursday, about two weeks into whatever social experiment Richie was doing by doing this, Eddie refused to make eye contact with him for hours, and they had ended up talking the whole day until Eddie took pity on Richie at the end of his shift. Richie ate every bite of his cold over-hard eggs while staring directly into Eddie’s eyes. Eddie almost threw up.

The days Bev came with Richie got fewer and farther between and Eddie was torn between feeling grateful and feeling guilty. Bev was cool, and she and Richie obviously loved each other, if the smiles they both wore on mornings when it was just Bev and Richie at the counter and Ben and Eddie behind it were anything to go by. But Eddie really, really liked Richie, and sometimes it felt like Richie liked him, too.

Richie was somehow a genius while also being an incurable dumbass. He had a seemingly never-ending supply of some of the worst shirts Eddie had ever seen. He was funny and willing to joke about anything, but he always seemed to know when to be sensitive. The day he and Eddie had talked all day, Eddie had ended up opening up about his anxiety and his anger issues and his past, and Richie had done nothing more than laugh when he told him about being negatively compared to Gordon Ramsay. He never offered any value judgements on Eddie as a person. He was also _terrible_ about laughing through his own jokes, which should’ve ruined most of them, but for some reason Eddie always found himself laughing along, even when Richie hadn’t reached the punchline yet. His laughter was infectious. He called Eddie a hundred dumb nicknames he claimed to hate, and he spoke in funny voices to annoy him. Eddie’s heart fluttered every time he saw Richie. So yes, Eddie was always half glad on days when Bev didn’t show up with Richie, because it meant Richie was all his for a few hours.

He realized, one Monday morning when he sat a plate of all-the-way hash browns and deviled eggs in front of Richie and the man laughed so hard he almost fell off his barstool, that he was facing a bit of a conundrum. He’d known his feelings for Richie weren’t platonic since the beginning, that was obvious, but when it was just physical attraction, it was ignorable. Now, though, he felt like he might be genuinely falling for someone with a girlfriend. He hadn’t seen Bev in almost two weeks at that point, but surely Richie would’ve been upset if they’d broken up, right? Eddie didn’t even know if, Bev or no Bev, Richie would be interested in men. He _thought_ so but he didn’t know for sure. Richie cleared his throat dramatically in the way he always did when he thought Eddie wasn’t paying enough attention to him, and Eddie looked up. Their eyes caught and Richie shoved the whole deviled egg half into his mouth at once. Eddie absolutely should _not_ be gone over this asshole. He started coughing around the egg, having tried to inhale it. Eddie pushed a glass of water over the counter at him. Richie drank the water like he was dying, swallowing with a dramatic gasp. Eddie’s eyes rolled automatically.

“Thanks, Eds, you’re a life saver.”

“Not my name. You know, those are really more of a two-bite deal.”

“Funny, your mom and I made that same deal last night. Surprised you couldn’t hear us through the walls; she’s a loud woman when she’s being pleased correctly.”

“Please seek professional help.”

Eddie turned back to scrape the griddle, already mentally planning his next egg dish. He and Richie kept trading barbs back and forth until Richie got pulled away with a phone call from Bev. Eddie felt his heart sink a little bit; he’d known, of course, that they were still together, but every day that Bev didn’t show up and sit at Richie’s side was a day Eddie could pretend he wasn’t doing anything wrong by flirting with a man who was so obviously in love with his girlfriend. He tried to tune out their conversation, but after he finished with the griddle, he moved to refill Richie’s water, and their eyes caught again.

“Sounds good, Bevvie. I’ll ask him,” Richie said into the phone. “See you later, love you.” Eddie ground his teeth; he was going to need to get a dental guard at the rate Richie induced _that_ particular reaction. Eddie went to put the water pitcher back in its place when Richie reached across the counter and laid a hand on Eddie’s forearm. Eddie stared down at it, eyes wide.

Richie’s fingers were so long they completely circled _the middle of his forearm_ Eddie was going to lose his fucking mind.

“Eds?” Richie said quietly. Eddie realized he’d been staring at his own arm in Richie’s grasp for a good thirty seconds. His eyes snapped up to Richie, who’s look was indecipherable. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Eddie said. He felt a little dazed, to be honest. He felt Richie squeeze his arm and couldn’t suppress a full body shudder. Richie dropped his arm abruptly, his face twisting in what Eddie thought was definitely embarrassment.

“Right, um, sorry. That was—that was Bev. She wanted to know, I mean, we, we wanted to know if you wanted to come over for dinner at ours? It wouldn’t just be—I mean she’s invited Ben, too, so it would be—”

“Sorry, I have plans,” Eddie said. He swallowed a little thickly. He hadn’t meant to answer that, but once he’d said he knew he couldn’t back track. It was one thing to see Richie and Bev together every few days in Waffle House, Eddie couldn’t go into their space and see them together. They _lived together_ apparently. It would be too much for him. He looked up at Richie, who looked oddly crestfallen.

“Yeah, of course you do, Eddie Spaghetti. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you Wednesday.” Richie dropped money for his breakfast on the counter and left the Waffle House abruptly. Eddie watched, confused, as Richie’s car pulled out of the parking lot.

“Dude,” Bill said, pushing off the counter where he’d been flirting with Mike. “What the fuck was that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you obviously like him.” Shit even _Bill_ had noticed? “Why’d you say no?”

“ _Because_ I like him! I can’t be around them together! I’m not—I can’t—”

“Be around _who_ together?” Mike asked. He looked like he was figuring something out, but what it could possibly be, Eddie had no idea.

“Richie and Bev!”

“What?” Bill looked so confused. “Why not?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, spending time with the guy I like and his girlfriend doesn’t sound like a great time to me, Bill.”

“Bev and Richie aren’t dating,” Mike said.

“What?”

“Bev is dating Ben.” Eddie turned around to see Stan leaning out the door to the office. “You’re more oblivious than Bill is—”

“Hey!”

“Richie likes you, and you just turned him down.”

“What?” Eddie felt like he might be having a heart attack. “But Richie and Bev—”

“Roommates. Best friends,” Mike said.

“Oh my god.”

“You can fix it,” Bill said. “He said he’d be back on Wednesday.”

\-------

Tuesdays were Eddie’s day off. He spent most of the day pacing in his vegetable garden, caught between agonizing over interacting with Richie now that he knew he was single and being critically embarrassed over misinterpreting his relationship with Bev. He felt like he was on fire.

Eddie had always been, if his therapist was to be believed, a man of action. He didn’t _feel_ like a man of action right now. Right now, he felt unsettled. His anxiety meds had taken the edge off, but he still felt wrongfooted. But, if Mike, Stan, and Bill were to be believed, Richie had made a move, and in Eddie had turned him down. It was Eddie’s responsibility to fix it. With that in mind, he started planning. He had most of the ingredients he needed in his garden; all he really needed to acquire was a lobster.

\-------

Eddie woke up early on Wednesday to boil his lobster. He carefully pulled the claw meat into a Tupperware container and tucked it into his work bag.

\-------

Richie came in with Bev. They sat in a booth in the corner. Eddie felt his heart drop for a second. Mike gave him a reassuring smile as Ben went over to, now that Eddie was paying attention, very obviously flirt with Bev. Richie was avoiding looking at Eddie. That was fine. Eddie hoped Richie would forgive him, even if Eddie had to embarrass himself and tell him why he’d turned him down in the first place.

Eddie started making the lobster omelet and all-the-way hash brown before Ben even came over with the ticket. Ben, having been filled in by Bill, clapped a comforting hand on Eddie’s shoulder before pushing the ticket into the ticket rail.

Eddie watched Ben take the finished food over to the table. Richie smiled when he saw that there weren’t any sunny-side-up eggs, which was something at least. A place to start. Their eyes locked as Richie took a bite of the omelet.

He swallowed and immediately started coughing, enormous hacking coughs. His face was turning red rapidly. Eddie felt his eyes widen as Richie looked down at the omelet and fumbled for his phone. He took loud, wheezing breaths. Bev looked down at his omelet and her eyes widened substantially. Eddie felt himself freeze as Ben, Mike, and Bev jumped into action.

“Oh shit, oh fuck,” Bev said. She stood up so fast she knocked her mug off the table; the porcelain shattered and the remnants of her half-finished coffee flooding the floor around the table. “Richie, you’re gonna be fine, okay?”

Mike manhandled Richie to the ground and propped his legs up on the booth seat while Ben called an ambulance.

\-------

Eddie wasn’t sure why he was alone in Richie’s hospital room with him. If anyone, it should be Bev. _Bev_ was his best friend. _Bev_ wasn’t the one who’d accidentally poisoned him.

She’d assured him it was all right, though. That Richie wouldn’t be mad and would want him there. Seeing her in the hospital waiting room holding Ben’s hand, something had clicked into place for him, and he’d agreed to stay while Ben went back to the Waffle House, and she went to get Richie some clothes that weren’t soaked in coffee.

So here he was, sitting in an uncomfortable chair next to a sleeping Richie. The doctor said he’d be fine; he’d just passed out in the ambulance from the stress of it all, and it would be best to let him wake up of his own volition. Eddie stared at his own hands and thought about holding Richie’s. Surely it would be weird if Richie woke up with Eddie holding his—

“You know, if you wanted to poison me, there were probably more subtle ways than lobster, Eduardo.” Eddie’s eyes snapped up to Richie’s, which were bleary and a bit unfocused. He was responding to the bait before he could stop himself.

“I wasn’t trying to _kill_ you, I just wanted to scare you.” Richie laughed.

“Oh, well that’s fine then. Do you see my glasses?” Eddie felt like an idiot; he jumped up and got Richie’s glasses from the other side of the room. Richie shoved them up his nose, almost dislodging his antihistamine IV in the process. Eddie reached out to help him untangle the IV from the bed remote. Their hands brushed, and Eddie pulled back like he’d been burned. “Jeez, who scrambled _your_ eggs,” Richie said, grinning broadly.

“I am _so_ sorry,” Eddie said. He felt like he was going to cry. He could feel himself starting to get hysterical, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. “I had _no_ idea you were allergic; I would never have—” Richie reached over put a hand on both of Eddie’s where he had been frantically wringing them.

“Hey. Eds. It’s fine. I’m okay! I know you didn’t _mean_ to poison me, although I will say it was _deliciously_ ironic timing after you shot me down the other day, but—”

“I didn’t _mean_ to shoot you down, though. The lobster omelet was supposed to be _romantic_.”

“What?”

“I like you. I really, really like you, Rich. I just thought—” Eddie sat back in the chair beside Richie’s bed and covered his face with his hands. He could feel himself blushing.

“Thought what?”

Eddie pulled his hands away from his face and took a deep breath, trying to will the blood out of his cheeks.

“I kind of thought you and Bev were dating?” he said. His eyes flicked to Richie’s, who looked absolutely stunned. For a long moment, the only sound was the beep of the heartrate monitor on Richie’s finger. Then Richie started laughing. Eddie’s blush deepened.

Richie laughed for two minutes straight. Every time Eddie thought he was settling down; he would start back up again. It was the most excruciating embarrassment he’d ever felt, but he couldn’t leave Richie alone in a hospital room with no idea of when Bev might come back. Finally, Richie’s laughter seemed to have tapered off.

“You’re done then?” Eddie said.

“Me and _Bev_?” Richie said around new laughter. “First off, I’m _extremely_ gay. Second, have you _seen_ Bev? She’s so far out of my league it’s not funny.”

“Then why are you _still laughing_.”

“Me and _Bev? Bev_ Bev? The Bev who’s dating—”

“Ben, yes, I found that out. If you’re just going to keep laughing at me, I can go.” Eddie wouldn’t _really_ leave. At least not until Bev came back to take Richie home. Now that he was awake, he could be discharged as soon as his IV was done. Eddie made to stand up to go take a lap around the nurses’ station to give Richie some time to calm down, but Richie’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm.

“Wait, I’m sorry.” Eddie pulled his arm out of Richie’s grasp to take his hand. The smile that bloomed on Richie’s face made Eddie’s heart hurt.

“You don’t get to be sorry, _I’m_ the one who poisoned you.”

“Accidentally! Besides, I’m fine.”

“He says, from a hospital bed.” They grinned at each other like idiots for a long moment. Eddie squeezed Richie’s hand. Richie squeezed back.

“Hey, Eds,” Richie said, sitting up.

“What?” Eddie leaned in. Richie’s eyes darted down to his lips. Eddie’s smile was involuntary.

“I fucked your mom.” It was like being doused in cold water. Eddie dropped Richie’s hand and turned to leave. “No, wait, c’mon, you know I was kidding.”

“We’re not friends.”

“Well that’s a relief because I don’t feel like this about most of my friends.” Eddie’s heart jumped into his throat, and he froze. Slowly, and not entirely of his own volition, he turned back to the bed. Richie was frozen, too, staring at Eddie wide-eyed.

“And how do you feel?”

“You already know. I asked you out on _Monday_ , you know how I—”

“I had to say it, you have to say it, Richie. I really, _really_ like you.” It was easier the second time. Richie took a long, deep breath and held his hand out to Eddie again. Eddie slid his fingers between Richie’s without a second thought.

“I really, _really_ like you, too. Please kiss me, or I’m getting out of this hospital bed right now.”

\-------

The next morning, when Richie got to the Waffle House, Eddie had his hash browns all-the-way ready for him with two perfectly sunny-side-up eggs.

**Author's Note:**

> Richie stared at the eggs for a long moment before looking up at Eddie.  
> “You made my eggs.”  
> “I made your eggs.”  
> “You made them how I want?”  
> “Yep.”  
> “So you’re done hating sunny-side-up?”  
> “The problem was never the eggs, Richie.”  
> “What?”  
> “I hate your fucking hash browns.”  
> Richie laughed while he pulled Eddie over the counter to kiss him.


End file.
